


Masquerade

by lacedwithlilacs



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:32:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacedwithlilacs/pseuds/lacedwithlilacs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is forced to go to a masquerade ball as per his mother's request. He dances with a beautiful girl, but when they finally get alone, Grantaire discovers she is not a Greek goddess, but rather his own Greek god, Enjolras.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Masquerade

**Author's Note:**

> I got a prompt on tumblr: "at a masquerade they don't know it's each other and they're flirting all night, they get together and then one of them removes their mask to go down on the other and it's like BAM IDENTITY REVEAL then sex"
> 
> I didn't really do any historical research on this so the outfits are weird and who knows how masquerade balls go (not me).

The first condition that Grantaire's brothers make him adhere to is that he absolutely cannot show up to the ball with the stench of wine on his breath. The second condition is that he must behave like a proper gentleman, not like one who's been spending the past few years with barely any money, spending what little he has on wine and alcohol. The third is that he must treat his mother and father with a smidge of respect, shake hands with his father, kiss his mother on the cheek, and then promptly avoid them for the rest of the evening. Of all the conditions, Grantaire is only willing to adhere to the third one. Then his eldest brother takes a step forward from the other two and tells Grantaire their end of the deal. They will pay him for his time.

For the past few years, Grantaire had almost forgotten about their family's annual masquerade ball that they attended. They were partial hosts since they could not afford to fund all of the ball by themselves. They took donations from friends in the form of gifts or cash to help make their masquerade ball a success every year. At first, Grantaire isn't sure why his brothers are suddenly willing to pay him for attending the stiff, proper ball that his parents semi-hosted and then his brothers all take on the same, somber expression.

"Mother," Grantaire's second oldest brother begins, "She's been quite ill. Very weak as of late. The doctors say she will be lucky to make it past the new year. She specifically requested that you come to the masquerade as her last request of you. We all know that you did not take well to father" – Grantaire scowls at the mention of his father – "but this is mother's dying request. She's put the rest of her strength into this."

Grantaire decides to accept the offer, if only to get his brothers out of his doorway. They nod and hand him a quarter of the payment, telling him that they will give him the rest of it when they meet him in a week. Two days later, Grantaire receives a letter that tells him a carriage will pick him up from his apartment and drive him to the grand hall on the edge of Paris, half way between his apartment and his family home.

It takes effort not to drink all day and instead wash himself, trim his beard, and pull on crisp clean clothing that makes him feel restricted and tight. His brothers, while they are not the richest, together pay a handsome fee; so much that Grantaire can't even think about not going. He would be able to pay for two months' rent with this payment from his older brothers. He waits at six o'clock sharp for the carriage in front of his apartment. They pay enough that Grantaire can't dare fuck anything up this time.

The driver stops for him and opens the door, as though he's actually some sort of important gentleman, rather than an alcoholic student. He climbs into the carriage and frowns at his brothers, two of them sitting across from his oldest brother and the empty seat he assumes is meant for him. He falls back into the hard seat, scowling at each of them as his eldest brother slips him an envelope with the rest of his payment. Grantaire fake smiles at the men, though he knows none of them believe it. "Glad you could make it baby brother." It takes more effort not to punch Grantaire's oldest brother in the face than it took not to have any wine.

They drive through the streets, Grantaire's brothers making small talk about their jobs and their work, all of which Grantaire is certain to make him feel bad. To make him realize that despite still being in school, that he will never amount to anything like his brothers. All of his brothers are married to pretty women, two of them with children already and the youngest one of them, though still older than Grantaire, has his first on the way. At one point, his middle brother tries to engage him in conversation, "Have you met any fine women in Paris yet?"

Grantaire bites down on his tongue to try and hide his love of Enjolras, suddenly boiling to the surface and threatening to pour out. "I have focused on my studies as of late," Grantaire responds and gives a look that dares any of them to speak to him again. His brother responds with a cautious nod and turns back to the other Grantaire brothers.

They arrive at the ball and file out of the carriage like civilized men, in order of birth with Grantaire trailing behind them. At the front of the hall are his mother and father, both of whom he has not seen in years. His mother is frail, barely filling out her dress anymore and she simply looks sickly. His parents greet every one of his brothers with a bright smile, a strong handshake, a nod, and loving kisses on the cheeks before handing them their masks. When they let their eyes fall on Grantaire, their smiles are suddenly forced. His father shakes his hand firmly, but not out of love or fondness. Neither Monsieur nor Madame Grantaire wear masks, to distinguish them as the hosts of the party and so Grantaire can fully see his father's disapproval on his face.

"Oh my baby," Madame Grantaire says, her curly dark brown hair streaked with grey, and gives him a light, forced kiss on the cheek and hands him the dark black mask that almost seems to blend in with his own dark brown hair. "How you have grown," she says as though she is genuine in her emotions, "I'm so very glad you could make it tonight." Grantaire sighs, fake smiles, gives his mother another kiss on the cheek and is off.

There are decent amount of people at the ball this time, more so than there were when Grantaire used to come to them. He assumes everyone here knows that his mother is going to die, that they should attend at least to appease her withering soul. With the masks, he cannot make out any but he hopes that perhaps his own mask will fool people into believing he is one of his successful brothers rather than the youngest Grantaire son without a single good thing to his name.

There is dancing; there is always dancing since his mother had been quite fond of the activity in her youth. It was apparently how his parents had met, at a masquerade ball as this thrown by a mutual friend and thus the reason for their own annual party. He makes his way towards the dancing standing awkwardly on the side as though awaiting someone to come find him. He had always been a good dancer, perhaps better than his brothers, though that hardly says much in comparison.

A woman does find him, dressed in a lovely off-white dress with a thin skirt, unlike some of the larger hooped skirts that some of the girls wear tonight. She takes his hand, her white gloved hand soft against his rough skin, and pulls him into the center. She is beautiful from what he can see, her upper chest is pale, milky white and spotless. Her lips are a beautiful red and her nose is that of a Greek goddess. She has bright blonde curls, in ringlets that bounce against her shoulders as she dances with Grantaire. They seem to fit together well and Grantaire can feel the eyes of others looking upon them, as though witnessing love at first sight with their own eyes.

The girl is flat though and her curves are undefined, bad for bearing children he momentarily thinks before shoving the idea out of his mind. He doesn't know where it came from honestly, he has no desire to touch a woman in such a way, much less enough to have children with her. Despite the momentary thought though, he continues dancing with her, the two of them almost creating a sort of connection that Grantaire cannot place a finger on. It's not of love, not nearly the same intensity that he feels when he is with Enjolras, but instead a sort of desire to get to know the girl. What her name is, what she likes to eat, how she ended up at such a dull ball.

When he tries to speak and ask her for her name at the very least, she shakes her head silently and her curls bounce against her cheeks. They part ways, but their eyes remain locked. When he leaves the dancing, he thinks back to the girl. Perhaps he would like her if he liked women. Perhaps he should give her a chance at least, just let himself try to become interested in the female sex. He makes his way across the hall towards the drinks and takes a glass of wine, thankful for the taste on his tongue.

He looks up to find the girl near him, coming over and taking a small glass herself. She smiles at him and her eyes, beautiful behind her mask, twinkle in a flirtatious manner. The rest of the evening proceeds this way, the girl seemingly to pop up out of nowhere, but never does it feel as though she is purposely doing it. She simply seems to cross his path multiple times in the large hall. Every time their eyes connect she smiles, averts her gaze and then looks up quickly once to see if he is still staring. Every time he is.

It nears the middle of the evening when she comes over to him, closer this time and sits next to him in a chair. She folds her hands on her lap and looks down at her fingers as she plays with the tips of her gloves. She scoots closer and eventually leans over, her red lips closer to his ear than he'd ever imagined he'd feel comfortable with. "Perhaps, I could give you some assistance tonight. I have heard I am quite skilled with my tongue and lips."

Her words take him by surprise if he's heard her correct and he finds himself about to decline when the girl pulls away and straightens again, darting her tongue out and licking her bottom lip. He cannot remember the last time a girl offered, despite telling Les Amis that he had one nearly every night. Grantaire nods once and stands up. "I know this building well, I can find us a place we will not be disturbed." He offers his hand to her and she takes it as any proper lady would, only her long, delicate fingers in his grasp.

The girl does know the building well, he confirms when they find a room with a locked door but lit with candles. When she locks the door behind her, she turns wild like, pressing Grantaire down upon a plush, deep red sofa and begins unbuttoning his trousers immediately. She knows how to remove male clothing too well he notes, worried that she might desire full intercourse before he pushes the idea out of his mind.

She takes her gloves off and then Grantaire into hand, stroking him as she smiles at him, moving down. With her free hand, she pulls at the golden ribbon on the back of the mask and takes the mask off. Immediately, everything freezes inside of Grantaire and he feels his mouth fall open, unable to force his jaw closed. As she's only centimeters from the head of Grantaire's dick, he breathes out barely loud enough for himself to hear, "Enjolras?"

The girl freezes and looks up at him with a blank expression. It is definitely Enjolras. "Enjolras," Grantaire breathes out again and Enjolras removes his hand from Grantaire's dick, coming up and taking the mask off slowly, almost a bit fearfully for Enjolras. When the mask is off, Enjolras' blank, guarded expression turns into a soft smile, probably thankful that it's Grantaire and not some other member of Les Amis who would discredit everything about Enjolras from this.

Enjolras places a finger against his lips, silencing Grantaire before Grantaire can even open his mouth again. Briefly, Enjolras leans forward and gives Grantaire one soft, barely there kiss. Enjolras' hand takes its place on Grantaire's dick again, stroking quickly. With this new information, Grantaire finds himself hardening much quicker, now brimming with even more desire for his cock to be sucked. Enjolras lowers his head, eyes locked with Grantaire as though to challenge the drunkard to say a word.

Enjolras' kisses lightly at the head of Grantaire's dick at first, before the slick warmth of his mouth covers the skin. Grantaire feels his head roll back, sighing happily as Enjolras begins working. Enjolras' mouth is warm, wet against Grantaire's dick and Enjolras had not lied earlier when he'd complimented his lips and tongue. Enjolras makes quick, skilled movements up and down, his hand wrapped around the base and twisting. Grantaire momentarily wonders if Enjolras fists himself in this very way, jerks himself off to the same movements before Enjolras lets out a soft moan, mostly muffled by Grantaire's thick cock in his mouth and Grantaire loses his ability for cognitive thought.

Grantaire forces his head upright again, looking down at Enjolras through lidded eyes, so far gone already he's unsure how he's going to be able to hold himself together long enough. He can easily see how some other unknowing man could take Enjolras' beauty for that of a girl's. Enjolras' lashes are blonde, though they look dark against his naturally pale complexion. Grantaire lifts his hand out of natural instinct, ready to place his thick, dark fingers in Enjolras' beautifully blonde and curled hair, but holds back out of modesty. Would Enjolras permit it?

Enjolras flashes his eyes up at Grantaire, his lips tight around Grantaire's dick, his tongue swirling along the underside and takes Grantaire's hand. He embeds the fingers in his hair for Grantaire, moving his other hand from the base of Grantaire's dick to Grantaire's inner thigh. Enjolras moves his eyes up, locking with Grantaire's blue ones, and slides down further, opening the back of his throat and sliding down like a professional.

Grantaire can't hold on much longer, not with the way that Enjolras is pulling all of the stops. So he tells Enjolras, his fingers tightening in Enjolras' blonde waves and feels his own hips twitching upwards, having fought so hard to keep them still the entire time. "I'm going to come," Grantaire warns again, almost pulling upwards to try and get Enjolras away in time. Instead, Enjolras locks eyes with Grantaire again and sucks harder, hollowing his lips and humming in approval. Enjolras' jaw goes slack as the vibration of the humming travels from Grantaire's dick to his brain.

He comes with a shout, a sharp quick "Enjolras!" and his entire body relaxes. Enjolras swallows him down completely, milking Grantaire as though to make sure neither of them dirty their fancy clothes. Grantaire leans back against the sofa as Enjolras carefully resituates him and does his pants for him again. Enjolras sits next to him on the couch, now playing with his skirts as though he were nervous. "Well," Grantaire says to break the silence, almost worried that Enjolras will clam up, refuse to let him into Les Amis anymore.

"I do this to gather information," Enjolras says quickly, sharp and curt and with a tone that dares Grantaire to spill anything or say something inappropriate. "Me and Jehan" – Grantaire's eyes widen in surprise at Prouvaire's name before he relaxes against the back of the sofa again – "Yes, Jean Prouvaire. Both of our families are well known enough to get us invited to almost every party. Occasionally he will dress as the woman, though most times I will. We come together as one another's dates, to give ourselves an easy escape should anything become messy. You know, as a woman sometimes men will tell you things they would not another man. No man truly believes a woman would take interest in his political pursuits, much less remember them."

Grantaire lets out a sigh and lets the information process. His mind flashes with Jehan dressed as a girl, beautiful, he determines but nowhere near as beautiful as Enjolras looks at this moment. "But do you like dressing as a woman from time to time?"

This time, there is no quick, definite answer before Enjolras nods once. "Oui." There is no shame, Enjolras does not have time for that sort of thing Grantaire knows, but there isn't any pride behind it either.

Gently, Grantaire scoots a bit closer to Enjolras, placing his hand on Enjolras' skirt. "As a man to another man," he starts and tightens his grip on Enjolras' upper thigh, "may I kiss you once more?"

Enjolras' smile is the sweetest that Grantaire has ever witnessed from the seemingly heartless marble statue and he almost thinks he can see a hint of a blush, though it may simply be the makeup. "More than once if you so desire." And so Grantaire leans forward and takes Enjolras up on that offer.

 

That next weekend, Grantaire finds himself at another meeting, watching Enjolras from afar, now dressed in men's clothing but not looking at all less beautiful. Grantaire spends the time as he does most meetings, drinking himself to death in the back, piping up only to shoot down Enjolras' ideas. Enjolras narrows his eyes at Grantaire and gives him a look of hatred, to which Grantaire always takes another drink.

He has not spoken with Enjolras since the ball, nor does he have any intention to. It was simply a mishap, a mistake, Grantaire tells himself and takes one drink more to try to forget it all. Alcohol only truly succeeds in making him remember more. The feeling of Enjolras' soft lips against his own, against his dick, sliding up and down against the sensitive skin. The tightening in his pants is no surprise and he stands to gather his things to leave almost an hour after the meeting has finished. He turns to the chair, having a bit of trouble finding his coat on the back of the chair and he realizes he is much drunker than he thought he was.

A hand wraps around his upper arm and it takes him too long to turn around, but when he does his face breaks out into an uncontrollable smile. "If you are unable to find your way home tonight, I would not object to you returning my favour tonight." Grantaire nods too enthusiastically he notes even in his drunken haze. What he does not drunkenly over exaggerate though, is the intensity with which Enjolras smiles at the acceptance.

**Author's Note:**

> interact with me on here!!!! comment and tell me how your day is going, rant to me about your work or school, tell me about how badly you want grantaire to fuck enjolras!!! inTERACT (~￣▽￣)~


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